


Hockey is a Contact Sport

by ColebaltBlue



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Emotional Porn, Hockey, M/M, No Touchy, Sorry Not Sorry, everything ends up being an innuendo, follows the comics pretty closely with a few oblique references to the tweets, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColebaltBlue/pseuds/ColebaltBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shitty noticed it first.</p><p>"You don't liked to be touched, bro?" He asked one crisp fall day just weeks before the end of Bitty's first semester of college.  His hands were shoved in his pockets and he didn't even reach out an elbow to bump Bitty.</p><p>"Oh!" Bitty responded, surprised.  "Uh, I guess not?  I don't think so?  I haven't even really thought about it to be honest?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hockey is a Contact Sport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/gifts).



> Inspired by this post: <http://the-experimentalist.tumblr.com/post/142162448626/issues-with-physicality>, which I have to admit I hadn't ever thought of Bitty's aversion to touch until I saw it. Then I couldn't get it out of my head. Thank you billiethepoet and mistyzeo for looking it over, I'm glad you're in the gay hockey webcomic trash pile with me.

Shitty noticed it first.

"You don't liked to be touched, bro?" He asked one crisp fall day just weeks before the end of Bitty's first semester. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he didn't even reach out an elbow to bump Bitty.

"Oh!" Bitty responded, surprised. "Uh, I guess not? I don't think so? I haven't even really thought about it to be honest?" Bitty thought about it for a moment. "I mean, I don't like getting checked. And there's all that bro-ing out with the team. It's just overly familiar, you know? And then there's all y'all, so comfortable with each other and touchy-feely and stuff-"

He trailed off. Not sure how to proceed. He really hadn't thought about it.

"My mama gives nice hugs," he said softly.

"Yeah, Bits." Shitty said, nodding.

They were quiet for the rest of their walk, their feet scraping through the crisp dead leaves on the ground. He hadn't ever really thought about it. Sure, his mom was affectionate free with the hugs but he couldn't remember the last time Coach had done anything more than pat him awkwardly on the shoulder. Katja had been free with shoulder squeezes and arm rubs when he had done a good job on the ice, but nothing too close. 

Besides his mother, the only other time he was really touched with any sort of affection was twice, behind the football stadium, by the straight _(ha! We'll see what he's saying in a few years)_ running back on the varsity football team at Madison High. And they didn't even kiss, because somehow kissing was far more gay than mutual handjobs.

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

Bitty noticed it second.

He had been thinking about what Shitty had said to him. Too much, really. And in that moment, as Jack skated into him, just before his body made contact with his, Bitty panicked. There was nothing more he dreaded in that moment than being touched. He let his skates slip out from under him and landed on his butt on the ice. All he could hear in his head in that moment was Jack saying, "until you stop being scared."

"Bittle?" Jack asked as he turned around in front of him.

"I'm not scared of being hit," he said at his skates. "I'm not."

"Okay?" Jack said slowly.

"I just don't like it."

"Okay. But you play hockey."

Bitty sighed and stood up. Experience told him checking practice with Jack wouldn't end until he had shaken him off a few good times. 

"You're lucky," he said to Jack an hour later as he tiredly unlaced his skates.

"Lucky, eh?" Jack asked, confused. He had probably been told that his entire life, for a variety of reason by any number of people. But Bitty couldn't help but be a little jealous of him.

"Yeah, you're lucky that you like and are good at the sport your dad loves so much. I would've given anything to play football some days, you know? I hate it, but it would've made my dad proud."

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment and a little line appeared between his eyebrows.

"Eat some protein at lunch."

Bitty smiled as he shoved his stuff into the gym bag. He was beginning to think that's what Jack was just going to say to him when he didn't know what else to say.

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

He scored against Yale and found himself at the bottom of the congratulatory pile. 

It wasn't so bad, he thought to himself as hands grabbed and slapped at him. He smiled and everyone yelled in his face how awesome he was. Congratulatory bro celebrations involving affectionate but violent touches and screaming were a lot nicer when people were pleased with him versus when they were bonding with each other over what they were doing to him. Like being shoved in a locker.

Being liked by his teammates was a lot different than merely being appreciated like he was back on his coed high school hockey team in Georgia. Or being tolerated on every other sports team he attempted to play on. And worlds better than being outright loathed that one time he tried football. He supposed the physical celebratory bro-ing out that he was currently experience wasn't the worst feeling in the world, but he'd never go so far as to say he liked it.

Of course that was all ruined later when Jack said the words "lucky shot". People didn't deserved to be slapped on the back when they made lucky shots. He begged off any celebration that night. Thankfully Shitty seemed to understand.

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

Shitty rarely touched him and Bitty loved him for it. He thought later that may have been what had given him the courage to officially say those two little words to him. Granted he had said about a million others in that same conversation, but it was those two that were important. Shitty didn't offer a hug or even a pat on the knee. Just a "we have your back,". Bless him because Shitty was probably the most tactile person he knew. 

Case in point, Bitty was baking in the Haus kitchen. Or attempting to bake because lately it seemed he was pep-talking Betsy more than he was baking in her. It was cold and crisp outside, dirty, icy snow still built up around the walkways and overhangs, but brown muddy messes everywhere else. He hadn't realized that New England winters would involve so much mud when he was considering Samwell, or that snow wouldn't remain light, fluffy, and white after a snowstorm.

Shitty was sitting at the counter, eating raw dough.

"I like hugs," Bitty said. "And you can't have sex without touching and I like sex."

Shitty raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to respond.

"It's more surprise touching?" Bitty asked, uncertainly.

He closed it, considering.

"Not a lot of that in figure skating."

"No."

"A lot in football though."

"Yes."

"And hockey."

"Yes."

Shitty nodded and then wandered off. An hour later he came flying from somewhere and literally tackled the girl standing in the doorway of his kitchen. Bitty gasped and cringed, but couldn't help but soften a bit at the gentle hug Jack gave her. She shook his hand when he offered it.

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

The second semester seemed to go better. He got used to the casual shoulder bumps and pats and hugs from his teammates. Shitty and Johnson seemed to respect his space and kept the touching to an absolute minimum without making it weird. Lardo never seemed to touch him either and he wondered if Shitty had said something to her. Jack hated him so that wasn't an issue either.

Except then Coach Murray put him on Jack's line in the game against Quinnipiac and kept him there because somehow it got them to playoffs. And Bitty had a chance to notice something about the Hockey Robot. He was surprisingly normal on the ice and seemed to save all of his awkwardness for off the ice. 

Bitty came to welcome the hugs that he got from Jack as part of his celly. And if those came first, he didn't seem to mind what came after from the rest of the team. He sometimes even enjoyed it, strictly within the confines of the rink. 

Then he got hip checked in the playoffs. And it was not as bad as he thought it was going to be, but at the same time it was so much worse. He had flubbed jumps before figure skating and landed harder, but somehow it was easier when it was your fault. The actual check? The contact of the body into his, horrifying. The sailing through the air, knowing you could do nothing to stop it, terrifying. Hitting the ice, the worst. 

Seeing the gloves come off and the fight start made him feel a little bit better. He didn't think he had ever been in a place before where someone would actually fight on his behalf. He had smiled at that as his head throbbed. 

Getting helped off the ice and having hands all over him was almost as bad as getting checked, but he kept telling himself it's because people were worried about him, not because they were upset with him for ruining the game. He only saw concern in Coach Murray's eyes, not the disappointment that he had seen in his father's when he was tackled in Pee Wee football and cried over it. 

He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the game. The team? Jack? Shitty? The ice? Absolutely, but the game itself, he wasn't sure. But he moved his boxes into The Haus anyway and promised himself he'd take the summer to think about it. And then Jack said goodbye to him and told him to eat more protein.

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

Jack was different. He knew this from the moment that Jack wrestled him out of the shower, naked and wet, and he was more upset about the whole Justin Beiber comment than he was about being touched. Frankly, he didn't even think about being quite literally manhandled until later.

But all of his pep talking over the summer to himself. All of the positive thinking about the team, and Shitty, and Jack, and the kitchen, and Betsy, and all the pies he could bake couldn't stop the panic attacks on the ice. 

"Hockey is a contact sport," he said to himself as he cried on the loading dock. "Hockey is a contact sport."

 _Hockey is a contact sport_ he said as he scrunched his shoulders to make himself smaller as he dodged freshmen in the Haus kitchen, as he ducked away from congratulatory slaps on the back from Ransom and Holster, as he tucked in his legs any time someone tried to sit next to him, as he shied away from all contact. 

"Bro," Shitty had said to him as he climbed out into the reading room.

"Yeah?"

"I know you don't like being touched and all, but have you ever, you know, talked to anyone about it?"

"No?"

"Listen, Bits, therapy is something rich people do a lot of. Helps alleviate the guilt over being a terrible person. My dad? Goes to therapy all the time. I go too, you know, because of him."

"Oh." Bitty was a gay boy from Georgia who figure skated and whose dad was coach of the high school football team and whose mom was his best friend and called him Dicky. Therapy would probably be a good idea, but he didn't think he needed it.

"Look, you don't need to talk to anyone about it if you don't want to, but shutting down and avoiding it, whatever it is that makes you scared of being touched, isn't working. Not for the team, not for the game, and especially not for you. Hockey is a contact sport, bro. You don't have to like contact to play it, but you can't be afraid of it."

"Yeah…"

Shitty bumped him softly on the shoulder, moving slowly and giving Bitty plenty of warning. He smiled at him.

"Thanks, Shits."

Shitty nodded. "No problem, man, now can you quit moping and make me a goddamned pie, I can't with these applications."

"Yeah, no problem."

He tapped at Jack's door before heading downstairs.

Jack answered, hair mussed, eyes tired, but he smiled when he saw Bittle.

"Checking practice at 5?" Bitty asked.

Jack looked surprised, Bittle had been avoiding him and practice in increasingly more ridiculous ways. "Yeah, and eat some protein for dinner, the butter in the pie crust doesn't count, eh?"

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

Bitty supposed having the most ridiculous crush on Jack helped him with the whole touching thing. He hoped desperately that Shitty hadn't noticed. And given the existential crisis he was currently having over law school apps he probably hadn't. Strangely enough it helped with the rest of the team. 

It was clear that he'd never be a tactile person, willing to throw himself naked across his teammates and snuggle on the couch. But getting caught in the bottom of the congratulatory dog pile for Shitty's Harvard acceptance didn't cause his heart to race or his palms to sweat or even the overwhelming feeling of _makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop_.

He even began hugging Lardo on the regular. 

And as the seniors got ready to say goodbye and they began all the rituals that he supposed were there to make them all feel better he found himself being even comfortable at times with the casual shoulder bumps and punches and congratulatory arms around the shoulders. 

Then Jack kissed him. 

_/ _/ _/ *** \\_ \\_ \\_

Bitty waited at the baggage claim of Atlanta's airport. Jack had texted him a little while ago that he had landed and was on his way to grab his bags. Bitty was relieved he had convinced his mom to stay at home and not accompany him for the hour drive to the airport. He still hadn't told her in so many words about Jack and if Jack was going to kiss him, he didn't want it to be in front of his mother. He hoped Jack would kiss him.

He gave a little wave when he spotted him in the crowd. Jack waved back and grinned.

"Hi," he said as he got close.

"Hi," Bitty replied.

Jack looked down at his feet and Bitty bit his bottom lip. Then he reached forward and pulled Bitty into a hug. 

"Hi," he whispered again as he wrapped his arms around Bitty's waist and pulled him in close.

Bitty leaned back and grinned up at Jack, arms around his neck.

"Hey you," he said.

Jack returned his grin and dipped his head to drop a soft and gentle kiss on his lips. 

The baggage carousel blared and started moving and they stepped back from each other, but Jack caught his fingers and squeezed.

Bitty's skin felt alive in a way he had never experienced before. It burned when Jack was close or brushed by him or touched him. Jack didn't rest his hand on BItty's thigh as he drove the hour back to his house and Bitty was glad, but he also made sure he caught Bitty's mouth in another kiss, this one longer, impossibly softer, and slow with heavy promise when BItty showed him his bedroom.

"C'mon, Mr. Zimmerman," Bitty said with a smile. "There's plenty of protein on the grill and I believe I promised you some real southern sweet tea. My mama will want to know how your dad is and Coach will want to test your football knowledge."

"And later?" Jack asked.

Bitty winked at him and deliberately brushed against the front of him as he slipped by. "Checking practice," he whispered. And laughed at Jack's scandalized expression and faint blush high on his cheeks.


End file.
